i wanna live with you (if we only live once)
by loved in shades of wrong
Summary: She's his lullaby. Future fic. Established relationship. Fluff.


**AN: It's my first contribution into the Arrow/Olicity fandom and I just banged this out in one night, so forgive me for any mistakes.**

After a long day and an even longer night, Oliver likes to unwind. Over the years, he's tried multiple things: chin-ups, sharpening his arrows, watching tv, keeping a journal (under Digg's suggestion), and even drinking tea (Felicity's). But nothing quite relaxed him after a terrible day like Felicity talking, telling him something as simple as how her day had been. Even though they spend a majority of it, if not together, then communicating over her little ear pieces.

When she got hurt during one of her insisted undercover missions, he'd urged she stop putting herself in danger like that, especially after she'd promised that she would be careful before pecking him light and suiting up. He'd lost his temper when she walked in sheepishly with a bandaged wrist and she nearly throttled him telling him it was her life, her choice. Only her choices doesn't only impact her life, but the ones around her too. It affects him, and he doesn't know who would brighten up the room, make him feel like there's still good and light in his world, if something ever happened to her.

She'd softened then, admitting that she never really thought of it that way. He'd sighed and pulled her into his arms, careful of her cuts and bruises. Then Digg recommended giving her more advanced self defence lessons. (Simply kicking attackers in the crotch doesn't end with the intended result from the type of people they're constantly dealing with every night.) That was fun, though on the first lesson they didn't do much teaching and learning than they did laughing and making out. When Digg caught them, he'd rolled his eyes and took over as teacher.

"… And then when you caught the guy he screamed so loud I jumped and almost spilled my coffee all over my outfit and Diggle- Oliver." She snaps her fingers in front of his face.

"Hm." He blinks slowly up at her, his faint smile stretching wider across his face when she squints accusingly from her place on the coffee table.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah."

She regards him sceptically, but after all these years, she should never underestimate his abilities. "What did I just say?"

"You spilled coffee all over your outfit."

"No, nearly. _Nearly_," she stresses, tugging on an invisible string near her lips.

Her red lips. Red kissable lips. Kissable lips that weren't doing much talking last night than they were over his body.

She clears her throat pointedly and he blinks again before darting his eyes back to her still narrowed beautiful blues.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Oliver sits up, pushing aside the frozen peas and throws his legs over the edge of the couch, effectively bringing himself closer to her. He shuffles forward until his knees touch hers. "Your voice nearly put me to sleep."

She rears back. "Oh. Well, if I'm _that_ boring then I won't talk! Ever again! Ever!"

He chuckles lightly, trapping her knees from moving away with one hand while the other tries to catch her flailing arms. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? That my _tone of voice_ is boring? Because I guess that's okay if that's how you really feel. I mean, I had a history teacher in high school that spoke so slowly and monotonously that I fell asleep once. But wait…" She frowns off to the side. "I don't speak in monotone. That's a terrible example." She shakes her head and wipes her hands across the air, accidentally hitting him on the arm in the process. "My point is…" She frowns again. If he had a free arm he'd use that to smooth away the crease between her brows. "Wait, what was I talking about again?"

"Felicity," he laughs, gripping her hands in both of his now. "Calm down. You're not boring, what you say isn't boring and you have a lovely, sexy tone of voice."

He watches, transfixed as she mouths silently, "Oh." before her cheeks tint a slight pink, and then he grins.

"It's been a long night and I love hearing you talk because it soothes me."

"R-really?" she stutters, gulping in a deep breath.

"Yeah," he says, tilting his head, studying her. Her breathing has picked up and with the way he's thumbing over her wrist he can feel her quick pulse, the speed almost identical to when they're in the midst of passion with his lips on her neck and her breath in his ear.

She wiggles one of her hands out to push up her glasses, but only manages to push one side up. He reaches over and slowly levels it.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"You're welcome."

"So…" She puffs out her cheeks. "Soothes, huh?" She laughs nervously.

An automatic smile expands across his face. "Yes. I love coming home to you and hearing you talk. I love how when I'm tense and stressed out, you just casually mention how you think your left foot is slightly longer than your right, and everything but you just melts from my mind." His eyes immediately zips down when she bites her lip, but they bounce back to her eyes when he says softly, "I love you, Felicity."

Her own smile lights up her whole face, her nose cutely scrunched, and her fingers stop fidgeting under his. "I love you too." He shuffles back against the couch when she crawls forward and snuggles herself on his lap. "You soothe me too, you know?"

"Mm?"

"It's not your voice, as nice as it is." Her fingers dance lightly across the bruise on his arm and up to his shoulder where it snakes across the back of his neck to link with her other hand. "It's your touch."

His grip around her waist tightens, pulling her top half flush against him. "Oh yeah?" He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

"Not like that!" she retorts indignantly. She huffs and rolls her eyes before sobering up. "You're always so warm. When it's cold you always hog the blanket, but it's okay because I just cuddle up to you, and it's comfortable and not so cold anymore. You're like my personal heater," she giggles silently and he smiles along with her.

"You're like my lullaby."

"I like that," she confesses shyly, playing with the ends of his hair.

"I like _you_."

She screws up her nose and her mouth also scrunches with the effort. "Shuddap," she mumbles.

He can't help but peck the tip before dropping down to push against her sweet lips. His hands travel along her skin and on the way to her cheeks, he collects the little goosebumps that jump for his attention. She hums as her lips caress his and his own goosebumps appear from the vibration.


End file.
